


Technicolour

by hedgerowhag



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Humor, M/M, for anyone who feels like shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 04:41:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11890245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedgerowhag/pseuds/hedgerowhag
Summary: This drags out a glare from Hux that inches Kylo back into the shelter of his ragged, black shawl.“It is complete fucking bullshit,” Hux tells him, “that your favourite colour is black. You tried to make me believe it once, but no. Of all people, no.”





	Technicolour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [youdidnotseeme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/youdidnotseeme/gifts).



> something short and stupid before i have to adios y'all. ydnsm suggested hux arguing that black cant be kylo's favourite colour when i asked her for an idea to write

Hux flinches when a socked toe creeps up his thigh. He brushes it off with the metal edge of his folder and puts his lips back on the edge of his mug. It scratched up from frequent use of dozens of students who pass through the lounge. It’s probably not hygienic, but Hux is not spending money on overpriced starbucks – the only other available coffee on university campus.

A nudge disturbs Hux from the printed block of words. He looks down at the foot in a bright yellow woollen sock on his lap. The toes wiggle through the worn holes as the other foot creeps forward.

Hux closes the folder and slams it into Kylo’s knees in the ragged black jeans.

“You fuck!” Kylo’s legs retract like the limbs of a spider back into the donut of the bean bag that he claimed on the floor beside the radiator. His boots are currently mounted on the said radiator and are wafting a stench of dirty water through the room.

“I don’t want your stinking feet on me,” Hux informs him.

Kylo gives a show of shivering and bundling his _shawl_  tighter around his neck and pulling it over his nose. “But I’m so-o cold!” he whimpers.

Kylo got a taste of the winter sludge on the roads when he was walking to the university campus and a passing car caught its wheels in a puddle, splashing him from knee down. Hux watched him from the window of a study building as he swerved into a lecture hall at ten past nine, kicking aside the lumps of grey snow on the steps as his black figure darted through the doors.

Hux looks up at the kitchen counter stuffed into the corner of the students lounge. There aren’t any more mugs left; people have herded into the lounge after the cold morning and have taken up every gap on the furniture while huddling over their boiling mugs. When Hux and Kylo came in, shivering and covered in snow, they only found a pile of bean bags available by the scratched up radiator.

Licking the coffee off his lips, Hux lifts the mug toward Kylo. “Here. Warm your corpse feet,” he says flatly.

“Aww thank you,” Kylo mutters as his hands clap over the mug. “It’s even my favourite colour.”

Hux looks up sharply. His hands cinch on the folder, crinkling the compiled papers.

“I always took you for a tea guy, but black coffee makes sense.” Kylo snorts into the mug as he gulps, moaning at the warmth until he notices that Hux isn’t replying.

With the cheap ceramic rim still pressed against his lip, Kylo turns in the sinking bean bag and blinks up at Hux. He is poised in his own seat, eyes and brows scrunched up and mouth slightly open like he is meaning to ask something.

“What?” Kylo nudges Hux with his elbow.

Hux’s jaw clicks. “No,” he says, shaking his head as he turns back to the papers.

“What?” Kylo leans in, plunking his jaw on the denim of Hux’s jacket. “What is it?”

Hux doesn’t answer immediately, continuing to shake his head as the plastic pockets of the folder slip. “Absolutely not,” he says.

“Did you just remember a piece of data that will help you to accomplish your goal of galactic domination?”

This drags out a glare from Hux that inches Kylo back into the shelter of his ragged, black shawl.

“It is complete fucking bullshit,” Hux tells him, “that your favourite colour is black. You tried to make me believe it once, but no. Of all people, no.”

“Why of all people?”

“Because I don’t know other people who order drinks with glitter and food dye just because they look pretty.”

The coffee almost spills on Kylo’s lap as he gestures at his own clothes: he is dressed in black from his head to his feet, except his socks. It’s as if someone decided to dump a pile of coal dust on the bean bag and that just happened to animate itself into a first year student that latched onto Hux – who is lucky enough to be leaving in the summer but unfortunate enough to call the said lump of coal dust his “boyfriend”.

“ _Once_ ,” Kylo gestures, “my mom bought me black balloons for my birthday and it was the only time I was willing to accept her as my mother.”

Hux squints harder. “Nobody’s favourite colour is pitch black. Dark brown, maybe. Grey, I would try to believe. But certainly not black that makes you look like an outdated goth.”

“Oh! Do you have the specs on the in-date goth look?”

Hux reaches over and pushes Kylo’s chest with a finger that sinks into the thick knit of his black jumper. Kylo tips back in the bean bag, grinning even as his head hits the radiator. The coffee sloshes on his stomach.

“Is it orange?”

“Huh?”

“Your favourite colour.”

Kylo plays at consideration as he watches his feet rub together. “I mean…” he mumbles, “It’s the colour of your drapes and carpet, so it would make sense, but nah.”

“Purple?” Hux suggests without faltering.

“Why purple?”

“You said that you used to dye your hair that colour. Until you had to get a job.”

Kylo’s knees tip up as he sinks deeper into the seat. Hux can tell that he is holding himself back from sticking out his legs to watch someone trip over them in the crowded lounge. He taps his fingers on the mug standing on his stomach instead, his chin has sunk into the scarf.

“Nah.”

Hux looks at Kylo’s soaked socks through which he can see his black painted toe nails. They are the only part of him that isn’t dressed in black. “Yellow?”

“No—Those are because I can get away with doing the laundry less. Even black can’t overcome stains like yellow does.”

“Red?”

“I’m going to slap you that colour if you don’t stop and believe me that my favourite colour is black.”

“Hmm—Green? Like the snot you wiped on my arm when you got the hangover flu.”

Hux is slapped on the thigh and his hand automatically whacks Kylo on the chest. Somehow, the near-empty mug of coffee is brought to the safety of the floor as Kylo tries to kick Hux in the stomach and in turns gets his ears pulled.

Kylo falls out of the bean bag and sticks his waterlogged foot into Hux’s face and has his toes wrenched back. The fight ends with Hux slamming his folder on Kylo’s ass while he climbs back into his seat because all the eyes in the room are staring at them. Kylo is giggling as Hux glares ahead in silent resignation.

The more Kylo laughs, the deeper colour Hux’s face becomes. He scrunches his fingers into the sleeves of his denim jacket when Kylo mushes his face into Hux’s shoulder.

Hux feels a touch on his cheek and looks down at Kylo who is grinning up at him from the puddle of wool on his shoulder.

“Fine. You got me.  _This_  is my favourite colour,” Kylo mumbles as he keeps brushing his fingertips up and down Hux’s peach blotched cheek until he gets shoved onto the floor.

 

 

 


End file.
